I Deserve It
by Enthusiastic Fish
Summary: Oneshot written for the NFA WWC #1. We had to begin with "I don't think that was meant to happen." Set in late season 2.


**A/N:** Written for the NFA WWC #1. We had to begin the story with "I don't think that was meant to happen." Here's what came out. It is set during season two, sometime after _Witness_.

**Disclaimer:** Not mine! Not mine! NCIS is a great and glorious thing and does not belong to poor pitiful me...but I'd accept it as a gift!

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**I Deserve It**  
by Enthusiastic Fish

"I don't think that was meant to happen," he said as the glass slipped from his fingers and smashed into pieces on the floor. His words were slurred but still understandable (an unfortunate occurrence to his mind, but one that could be remedied).

"No, it wasn't."

"Yeah, it figures."

"I think you've had enough to drink."

"Nope. I know I haven't."

"Do you _ever_ really drink?"

"On occasion."

"No, I mean this kind of stupidly-getting-drunk drinking."

"Oh. First time. It's nice right now."

"I thought not. I never thought I'd see _you_ getting drunk."

"Why? Because I'm so _responsible_?" The word was bitter.

"Yeah. You _are_."

"Yeah. Responsible. I'm responsible. I'm so totally responsible, a pillar of the community...a murderer." He spat out the words and drank another shot, calling for a refill.

"You didn't kill anyone." He tried to intercept the drink, but underestimated his companion's determination. "No one died."

"Still could. He was just a little kid!"

"He ran right out in front of the car. Even his mother agreed that it wasn't your fault."

"Not my fault." He laughed in the same bitter tone. "But I'm _responsible_!" He tossed back another shot.

"How many is that?"

"Not enough if I'm still upright."

"It's too many if you think it's a good idea to be drinking more."

"I'd be thinking that if I were sober. You ever run over a little kid running after his ball? I didn't think so. Kids like you. You don't hurt little kids."

"Why is this affecting you so much?"

"Are you joking? I ran over a four-year-old and you're wondering why it's bothering me?"

"You didn't drink yourself drunk when that computer girl died."

"Thanks for bringing up one of my favorite subjects. The next one can be..." He stopped talking abruptly and stared at his empty glass.

"What is it?"

"None of your business. We're not at work. You can't order me around on my own time. Don't worry. I'm not going to drive anywhere. I didn't even bring my car."

"I know."

"How?"

"You tell me what it is about this particular incident that has you so upset and I'll tell you how I knew where to find you."

"Oh, a deal. Great. Now, I'm not only killing kids but I'm being treated like one." He lifted another drink to his lips...only to have it torn from his hand and set firmly on the bar.

"You will not dig yourself an early grave. I won't allow it. You tell me what's wrong or you can..."

"What? Quit? You'll fire me? Maybe that's the best for everyone. I always wanted to help people but I sure don't seem to be doing a very good job of it."

"No. I'm closing out your tab. You're done."

"I'm done when _I_ say I'm done. Hey! What do you think you're doing?"

He grabbed his companion by the arm and dragged him out of the bar.

"Knock it off!" He was unsteady on his feet and reeled like the stereotypical drunken sailor.

"What is wrong with you? Tell me."

"Why do you care?"

"Because you're on my team and I care about my team."

"If you care so much, then why don't you just take the car keys away from me. Never let me drive again. I'll be killing one of you next."

"You haven't killed anyone and you know that."

Suddenly, he sagged in his grip and tears came to his eyes. "No, I've done worse."

"What have you done?"

"I've paralyzed them."

"Them?"

"That little boy...his spine might be broken. It happens in car accidents. He might have to spend the rest of his life in a wheelchair...because of me...again."

"Who else are you talking about?"

"No one. No one at all."

"Tell me." It was a gentle request this time as he was led to a car and pushed down onto the passenger seat.

"I was sixteen. I was in a car accident."

"Yeah, I know. You told Tony."

"My dad was in the car, too. He was paralyzed from the waist down. I was driving. I only looked away for a second. That's all it took. Blink...and then, _wham!_ No more walking. Health problems, financial problems, legal problems...all because of something that _wasn't my fault_!" He tried to stand up...and didn't make it. "If I'm going to do something so incredibly stupid, I'd like it to only affect _me_ for once!"

"So, you're drinking to punish yourself."

"Sure, why not? People drink themselves sick all the time. No one thinks twice about it. Drunkards can get in a car and drive and nothing happens...but me...I'm stone cold sober and I still manage to get in two car accidents in a decade. Both times, nothing bad happens to me...only to others. Well, why not me?"

"Nothing happens? I thought you broke your leg."

"It healed."

"All right. That's enough. You're going home."

"I don't want to go home. I want to sit around and drink a hole in my stomach. Other people are allowed to get drunk when they're depressed. Why can't I do it, too? Don't I deserve it?"

"No, you don't."

He broke down in tears. "Why are you being so nice to me? Why? Why aren't you firing me?"

"Why should I fire you?"

"Because I'm such a failure."

"No, you're not. What happened today was an accident in every meaning of the word. That little boy got away from his mother to chase down his ball. The ball was small and you didn't see it. I wouldn't have seen it either. You pushed on your brakes with the fastest reflexes I've ever seen when he darted between the parked cars...it just wasn't fast enough. No one could have been fast enough."

"I saw him...just barely too late."

"Nothing you could do about it."

"He's so young."

"That actually means he could be okay. Kids' bones are more malleable than adults'."

"Why does this kind of thing happen to me?"

"Because you let it."

"What?"

"You can't control some things in life, Tim. It's impossible. What you have to do is control how you react to it...and trying to destroy your liver in one night of drinking isn't a good way to go about it."

"I don't feel very good."

"I'm not surprised. Come with me."

He took the offered hand and felt his stomach rebelling. They barely made it to the garbage can before he was heaving his guts out. When he finished he looked up.

"I'm sorry, Boss."

"Don't worry about it, Tim. You think this is the first time I've seen someone drunk?"

"No, I'm sorry."

"Don't be. Today wasn't your fault. Ten years ago wasn't your fault. Work your way around to realizing that and you'll be okay."

"I didn't want this to happen."

"We never do. We never do."

Gibbs took his newest agent home, helped him to his apartment and let him sleep it off. He didn't want to lose a promising member of his team because of an accident, and he knew when not to push. That was the reason he left a note telling Tim not to come in the next day until the afternoon. It was more important that he recover than that he drag himself to work with the hangover he'd more than likely have.

x.x.x.x.x.x.x.x

_Tag..._

"Fun night, Probie?"

"No," Tim said shortly.

"You all right, McGee?" Kate asked. "You seem a little...green. You shouldn't be at work if you're sick."

"I'm not sick."

"I think our little boy's all grown up and getting hangovers of his very own," Tony said, smirking. "Ow!"

Gibbs walked by without replying. "I thought I told you to stay home, McGee."

Tim mustered up a pained smile. "Some things are more important, Boss."

"Like what?"

"Doing my job."

Gibbs smiled. "Okay, then. Here's what we have..."

FINIS!


End file.
